


Forces of Nature

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: A Skip in Time (Time Agnosia Supernatural Style) [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anti-Poly Sentiments, Bobby Singer's Panic Room, But is mostly irrelevant, Can You Believe This Didn't Happen Until Now in this 'verse I mean really, Homecoming, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jessica Moore Lives, John Winchester Lives, Multi, Pre-Slash, There will be a deleted scene or outtake related to this, but wait there's more, fuck the panic room, i will never forgive it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Sam comes home from Bobby's, and it's not a minute too soon for any of them.





	Forces of Nature

Once Dean’s tears start to flow, they just don’t stop for a long time. And it isn’t sexy, and he looks like hell. Like he could spend three days staring at the wall. He holds Jess when he needs to, and she keeps busy when he can’t do that anymore. Sometimes he makes physical sound, and sometimes he doesn’t.

It gets ominous when they both feel something happen--Sam’s third of the bond goes quiet. It’s not something they even really thought about happening in a long time, but it does happen, and has happened now.

Jess and Dean meet, first mentally and then physically in the middle of the living room.

“Sam,” Jess says.

And Dean answers, “He’s not okay.” And it’s a wonder Dean can get those words out. “Is it--?” he starts to ask.

“No. No. Look. Let’s not panic yet. Let’s see how long this lasts for.”

“Until when?”

“Until we can’t anymore,” Jess says, gesturing vaguely. “Come here, baby. Jesus, you look like hell.”

“Jess, I… Something’s wrong.”

“I know it is,” Jess says. Her jaw is clenched and her shoulders are tense even as she holds him, swaying a little.

Before they can freak out any more though, Jess’ phone rings in her pocket and she pulls it out.

It’s Sam. She puts it on speaker. “Are you--?”

“I’m coming home. I’ll explain when I get there.”

“Did you--”

“No traveling. It’s…. It’s just… this place. Dean, it’s this place. I’ve gotta come home, but don’t worry about me. I’m alright. I’m getting in the car now.”

That night and the following day are tense, but the low thrum of Sam is where it’s supposed to be. Everyone tries to remember to breathe, and if Dean can’t hold something in he finds Jess and--tries to--explain himself.

“He’s close, Dean, it’ll be alright,” Jess says, and Dean murmurs that he’ll believe it in the morning, maybe.

And then Sam’s home, and he walks in and Dean envelopes him with practiced ease, even as if he’s the taller brother.

“Dean. I gotcha. I gotcha. Look. I didn’t mean to-- I didn’t mean to wreck it,” he says, slower the second time. “But Bobby… something’s wrong with Bobby. He’s different, or the world’s different, I don’t know.”

“Sam...what do you mean?” Dean asks, tense.

“He’s got this whole...room. He told Rufus to eat shit and die. I thought they were friends, Dean, but they’re just hunters, it’s like none of them can even have friends, it’s all hell. He was telling me about crap Dad had done, stuff that’s circulating through the community or whatever, you know? And they wish he was dead same as us. And this room… It’s like Bobby’s prepping for Demon World War III in there. It gave me a really bad vibe, Dean, I felt sick as soon as I saw it and I didn’t want it to hit you and Jess so I came home. I felt this thing like if Bobby got the wrong idea about us--which is to say Bobby definitely has the wrong idea about us--”

“Of course,” Dean says, and wipes tiredly at his eyes. Jess puts an arm around Dean’s shoulders for just long enough to steady him.

“Yeah, it was like, an evils of poly 101 intervention. He went to Hedonism, but while he was there he _definitely_ got the wrong idea….”

Dean sighs. “Do I even want to know more?”

“Not really, Dean. I mean he tried to understand, but he’s really wrapped up in some stuff that’s happened to him. Maybe we could work on him from a distance. So I just came home. I just. I wanted to be home. And the room…”

“I felt that thing,” Dean says, “The room.”

“Me too,” Jess whispers.

“I know. Or I suspected. So I ran. I kept imagining you two, there with me, and then I thought, if I imagine this too hard….”

“Sammy,” Dean says. “You were right to do what you did, to go. It was hard but….”

“Dean…”

“Don’t, Sam. Not yet. Get settled, get some sleep. I….”

“What, are you banishing yourself? You’ll come to bed, won’t you?” Sam asks quietly. “I’ve missed you, Dean.”

“Uh. Yeah. I…”

“If you and Jess need another night… it’s alright, Dean. I rushed home. And I know you felt it, I know you feel like hell. If you need more time…”

“You didn’t travel?” Dean changes the subject.

“No, Dean. Dean. Come on.”

“Sammy. You don’t know.”

Sam gives him a _yeah, sure_ look, but shakes his head. He looks a little pained. “I missed you, Dean,” he says quietly. “Just let me know what you need.”

“Sammy, I can’t. I…”

Sam reaches out and gently takes Dean’s hand for just a second. Just a second. He rubs a thumb over the space between Dean’s thumb and forefinger and then he lets go. “Okay, Dean,” he whispers.

“You’d… Jess… I can’t.”

Jess sighs. “We...we were doing alright, Sam, but it was a lot, maybe too much too fast.”

“Whiplash,” Dean whispers almost too quiet to be heard.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” Sam says.

“No, it’s better we know,” Jess says. “And Sam, this was really important for you. For all of us.”

“In the room,” Sam says, “I felt you. I love you so much. I just wanted to get home...before….before it was worse. Please tell me I didn’t fuck it up.”

“You didn’t, Sam,” Jess whispers. Then a little louder... “Dean’s thing...is Dean’s thing. And we’ll get through it. All of us. Together.”

Dean lets out a slightly muffled, deep, strangled sound.

“Dean. Come on.” Sam opens his arms wide. “I’m home. I’m home. It’s alright. I’m home.”

And then Dean is in his arms, and they’re holding onto each other for dear life the way they did as starving kids and hurting adults. Dean takes huge swallows of air. They feel him trying and failing to put an end to a torrent of feeling that won’t stop, won’t ever stop, hasn’t stopped since Lawrence, Kansas and never will.

“I didn’t travel once,” Sam says. “I found my anchor.” And Dean doesn’t say anything in words. But everything he doesn’t say is as evident on his face as ever, painted in gold lettering across their minds. “Dean,” he adds softly, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh god it happened I got all the SPN Snow Patrol earworms back while writing this...  
> Party like it's 2009 indeed....


End file.
